


Pudding Is Messy

by gaylock



Series: Darling Disaster, You Are My Sin [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Awesome Irene Adler, Big Brother Mycroft, Molly has a crush on Irene, Mycroft To The Rescue, Pranks, Pudding, Pudding is messy, Shenanigans, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper Friendship, Sherlock is a Brat, Teen Mycroft, Teen Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 15:53:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6616519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaylock/pseuds/gaylock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pudding is good, especially chocolate pudding. It is also very, very messy.</p><p>Sherlock and Irene get up to their usual shenanigans, and Mycroft ends up fixing things in the end, like he always does. Isn't Big Brother just a glorified name for Personal Babysitter? Sherlock certainly seems to think so...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Prequel to Call Me Darling, and is part of a small group of prequel fics I'll be writing based in Sherlock's POV. This fic actually relates directly to an event that we see take place in the second chapter of Call Me Darling; Mycroft comes back from bringing Sherlock home after he covers his teacher in pudding.

Blah blah blah. Honestly, what was even the point of this class? Sherlock Holmes sighed, slouched down in his desk, his head resting in the palm of his right hand while his left dangled off the edge of his desk. He'd known most of this stuff since he was nine! How on earth could it be considered learning, if he already knew it all? Ugh.

"Mr. Holmes, I do hope you're paying attention." The sharp voice of his biology teacher, Mrs. Sinclair intruded on his thoughts, and he straightened up slightly in his seat. 

"Yes, of course Professor." He said, waiting for her to nod and turn back towards the blackboard, before letting his body slouch once again. The girl in the seat behind him snickered and leaned over to tap his shoulder.

"Hey," She whispered, tapping his arm.

Sherlock ignored her.

She tapped more forcefully. "Hey," She began to poke him in the side, her long arms easily reaching across the gap that was between them. Sherlock sighed and turned around. 

"What?" He huffed out, one of his dark eyebrows raised in question above his piercing blue-grey-green eyes. The girl smirked and shrugged.

"Nothing, was just being annoying." She said cheekily, pulling her phone out and leaning back in her seat.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned back around. "Oh, honestly Irene." He said, amusement in his voice. Irene Adler, the girl who sat behind him in his science class, had been his best friend ever since he began schooling here at Baker Street Academy. They had a lot in common; both loved learning, but hated school. Both enjoyed running, but hated sports, both worked at the local bakery in town, and most importantly? Both despised everyone else. 

Irene smirked and tapped her nails against her phone screen. "Gotta do  _something_ to relieve the boredom. This class is old news; it feels like we learn the same thing every year." She made a face and stood up just as the bell signalling the end of class rang out. "Come on, we have Chemistry next."

Sherlock sighed and stood up, shoving his books inside his bag and slinging it carelessly over his shoulder. "Chemistry is no better than this class. In fact, it may even be worse; ever since McCain’s wife divorced him, he's been a complete arse to me." 

Irene began to laugh as she walked beside him. "He's only an arse to you, because you were stupid enough to announce in front of the entire class that his wife had been cheating on him with his brother! Oh god," She stopped walking to double over with laughter. "What I wouldn't give to have a picture of his face when you said that! Priceless!" She smiled at him, and he smirked back.

"Glad you find it funny." He said dryly, stepping out of the center of the corridor, where a moving stream of people continued forwards. He walked to his locker and opened it, shoving his Biology books in and pulling his Chemistry books out. "Come on, or we're gonna be late."

Irene exchanged her books as well, shoving something else alongside them into her bag. Sherlock ignored her, assuming it was her phone, or maybe one of those girly magazines she was always reading, and continued on towards their classroom. 

\-----------------

"Hey, Sherlock." 

Sherlock turned to look at Molly Hooper, who more often than not was his science partner for various labs and experiments. She was dressed in the required goggles and lab coat, and smiled at him as she sat in the seat beside him.

"Molly." He replied, nodding his head once before turning back to the microscope and glass slide in front of him.

"Do you want to do the examination, and I'll start on the write up? And then we can do the dissection part later in the week, and divide it up then." She said, pulling a notebook out of her bag along with a pencil. Sherlock nodded again and Molly turned away from him to begin writing.

The worked in companionable silence for a few minutes, before Molly cleared her throat and asked softly, "Uhm, Sherlock?"

She received a grunt in response, and continued on. "Can... can I ask you a question?"

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders once. "You just did, so clearly you are able. But yes, go ahead."

Molly smiled a little at the very Sherlockian answer, before a slightly nervous look crept back over her features. "Uh, do you know where Irene is? I wanted to ask her something." She fiddled with the pencil in her hand and her eyes looked downwards.

Her question caused Sherlock to look up from his microscope in confusion. "Molly, Irene is right over there, working with Jennifer-" He cut himself off when he realized that his friend was no longer in her assigned seat. Taking a quick glance around the room, he realized that she was nowhere to be found.

"Guess that's a no, then." Molly said, watching him as he looked around. His eyes swiveled to face her, and she blushed. "I mean; I guess you don't know where she is..." She trailed off. "Never mind." She mumbled under her breath, turning back to her notebook. She began scribbling furiously. 

Sherlock stared at her for a moment, and was about to ask why she wanted to talk to Irene in the first place, when his phone buzzed softly in his bag. He reached down and picked it up, only to see that Irene had sent him a text. Clicking it open, he read

 

 **Hey, come out here for a moment, I**  
**have something to show you.** **  
**-Irene****

 

Sherlock furrowed his brows and stood up. Molly glanced up from her furious scribbling and asked, "Where are you going?" 

"Loo." Sherlock said, before walking out of the room. He stepped out into the hall and immediately saw his best friend walking towards him, her phone in her left hand and a small plastic bucket in her right.

"Oh good, you came. Here." She said, before handing the bucket to him. 

"A bucket." He said, looking down at where it rested in his hands. "Why on earth do you have a bucket?"

Irene's lips curled up in a slow smile. "You'll see." Was all she said, before leading him down the hall a bit. When they got to a small alcove, she stopped them and told him to put the bucket down onto the ground. He looked at her for a moment before shrugging and doing as she said.

Then, Irene reached into the alcove and pulled out a large container of pudding. Chocolate pudding. Sherlock's eyebrows rose. Interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

“Okay, hold that bucket up for me, please?” She said, before tipping the entire container of pudding into the bucket as he held it in his hands. His eyebrows rose further.

“What do you need _pudding_ for? It’s chemistry, not lunch time.” Sherlock asked her, stepping back while Irene tossed the now empty pudding container aside and began walking back towards their classroom. “Is it for an experiment?”

Irene laughs. “You could say that, yeah. We’re gonna dump it on McCain’s head, and watch his reaction. Call it a social experiment.” She sashayed towards the classroom door, still giggling.

Sherlock stood frozen in place, before he laughed and scurried after her. “Irene! That’s brilliant!” He stopped beside her right outside the classroom door, and watched as she glanced in.

“Hey Sherlock, I’ll make a distraction that’ll get him out in the hall while you set the bucket up, alright?” Irene looked at him and tapped the bucket once with the tip of her perfectly painted finger.

Nodding, Sherlock stepped into the room and held the bucket behind his back. “How are you gonna get him out of here?” He asked Irene, keeping his voice low so as not to attract McCain’s attention. He glanced over at his desk and Chemistry partner, only to see Molly Hooper staring right back.

“Oh, I have my ways.” Irene said mysteriously, removing her phone from her pocket and tapping out a quick message, before smiling at her friend and moving towards her desk to sit down. Sherlock stared after her for a moment, before shrugging and moving closer to the wall beside the door, waiting for his cue. It came in the form of a male voice, blaring out obnoxious and rather inappropriate lyrics to a popular song.

“What the…” McCain muttered under his breath. He got up from his desk and moved quickly towards the door. “Who is making all that racket?” He said loudly, sticking his head out of the doorway and looking towards the person responsible.

“ **FUCK THE POLICE, BITCHES!!!** ” Came the reply, and McCain stepped out into the hall.

“Now, I don’t know who you are, young man, but if you think I’m going to let you get away with disturbing my class in such a manner–”

The boy cut him off with a loud cry of, “ **WILL THE REAL SLIM SHADY PLEASE STAND UP!** ” Before running down the corridor. McCain let out a shout of “Hey!” before he too went running down the corridor. Shouts of, “Now you listen here!” were accompanied by, “ **AWH SKEET SKEET MOTHAFUCKA!!!** ” before they turned the corner and were gone.

In the ensuing chaos of the class, as every student who had been working quietly now started talking and wondering what was going on, Sherlock stepped up to the door and closed it, before placing the bucket on the rod that stuck out from above the door. Irene’s plan was genius; when McCain opened the door, the bucket full of pudding would tip, and McCain would be covered in chocolate pudding as a result.

Sherlock smiled and walked back to his seat. Oh, yes, this was going to be fun.

Molly gave him a slightly startled look, before raising an eyebrow and nodding at him. “Pranks, Sherlock? Really?”

He was shocked. She’d noticed? He sat back in his seat as casually as possible. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Molly rolled her eyes and smirked. “Okay, whatever.” She said, before going back to her notes.

 

* * *

 Irene had to stop three people from trying to leave the classroom, but finally, twenty minutes later, Sherlock heard footsteps in the hallway outside the classroom door. The class had just begun to settle back down, and when the knob turned, the last few trouble makers fled to their seats, trying to appear as if they’d been doing work the entire time. Sherlock stared at the slowly opening door like a hawk, and from the corner of his eye could see both Molly and Irene facing the door as well.

It seemed to happen in slow motion; the door seeming to take forever to open, and then the even slower entry of Professor McCain. His brown leather shoes entered the room first, his trouser covered legs following close behind. Sherlock barely noticed this though, as his eyes were now trained on the slowly tipping bucket above the teachers’ head. It wasn’t until McCain stood fully within the classrooms now open doorway, that the bucket finally completed its journey, and emptied its contents.

“Now then, as I was saying –” McCain began, only to be interrupted by a fountain of brown liquid substance cascading over his head and face, and covering him head to toe. He sputtered as the class erupted in laughter around him, and the click of a camera could be heard as Irene took several photo’s of the spectacle.

“What is this?! Wha – is this pudding?!” He screeched, lifting his hands up to wipe his eyes. McCain’s glare scanned the room, and his face turned an ugly shade of red underneath its layer of pudding. “Who did this? Hmmm? Was it you, Connelly? Was it _you_ , Davies?” His accusations were wild, and as he stomped towards his desk while leaving a trail of brown footprints behind him, Sherlock couldn’t help but let out a loud snort.

“ _You_ , Holmes?” Came the accusation, and as Sherlock met the enraged gaze of his teacher, he knew he would be blamed. Still laughing, Sherlock shook his head, but McCain continued.

“It _was_ you, wasn’t it? You, always making _trouble_. Well now you’ve gone too far!” McCain screamed at him, his whole body shaking with anger. This only caused more laughter however, as the shaking dislodged some of the pudding from the top of his head and sent it sliding down the center of his face.

“Office! **NOW!** ” Sherlock tried to contain his snorts of laughter as he did as McCain ordered and gathered his things before leaving the classroom. He closed the door behind him as softly as he could, and sent a wink to Irene before shutting it firmly. He laughed to himself as he walked down the hall towards the Headmaster’s office. The photo’s Irene took would be priceless, he honestly couldn’t wait.

Just as he reached the office, his phone pinged, and he pulled it out. It was a text from his brother. Sherlock smiled; not even a text from his brother could bring his good mood down.

He pressed the call button and listened to it ring, once then twice, before Mycroft picked up.

“Hello, brother dear.” He said, his amusement clear in his voice. "Did Molly text you? She must have, Irene certainly wouldn't."

Mycroft’s voice was loud in his ear. “Why have you been sent down to the Headmaster’s office _this_ time, Sherlock?” Mycroft sounded tired, and Sherlock couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well, I don’t really know. I _guess_ it’s because I dumped pudding all over McCain, but I’m not sure…”

“ **WHAT?!** ”

Sherlock smirked. “Oh, you would have _loved_ it, Mycroft. It was chocolate; your favourite.”

Mycroft sounded weak as he said, “Have you _lost your mind_? What on earth caused you to dump _pudding_ on a teacher? You’ll be expelled for this for sure!”

“No I won’t, because you’ll get me out of it like you always do. It’s your job.” Sherlock replied smugly, waving at the Head Secretary before sitting down in a chair to wait. The Office Personnel were well acquainted with the younger Holmes by now, as he had spent many an afternoon waiting for a meeting with the Headmaster.

“I’m not your babysitter, Sherlock. It _isn’t_ my job.” Mycroft sighed.

“Well, you certainly don’t want _Mummy_ finding out, do you?” Sherlock asked, and when his question was met with silence, his smirk grew. “I thought not. I’ll see you soon, brother dear.” He said, and hung up before his brother could get the last word.

“Hello, Mr. Holmes. I’d say it’s nice to see you back here, but…well, it’s _really_ not.” The Head Secretary Mrs. Turner said, trying to hide her fond smile behind a stern look.

Sherlock smiled back. He wasn’t fooled for a moment. “Hello Mrs. Turner. I’m sorry I can’t say the same; it’s always a _pleasure_ to see you.” He said with a wink, and Mrs. Turner giggled and shook her head.

“Oh, such a charmer.” She said. “Headmaster Gregson will be ready for you in about ten minutes. He’s in a meeting right now.” She smiled at him and turned back to her computer screen. 

Sherlock leaned back in his chair and fiddled with his phone while he waited for his brother to make his excuses to whichever teacher he was with at the moment and arrive. He ended up waiting seven minutes and thirty-three seconds, before the Office door opened and his brother stepped in, a scowl on his face.

"Good, you're here." Sherlock jumped up. "Gregson will be out in a few minutes; you can work on what you're going to say until then." 

"You know, maybe if you tried apologizing for once, you would't need your brother for this." Mrs. Turner said, her eyebrows raised sardonically as she sent a smile Mycroft's way. "Hello dear, it's lovely to see you. Need me to write up a note for your next class? History, isn't it?" 

Mycroft smiled slightly at the older woman, moving towards the chairs and taking a seat. "Pleasure, as always, Mrs. Turner. I don't believe the note will be necessary; I'm hoping to have this matter done with before the periods over. I should be able to get to History in plenty of time." He turned towards his brother, who was now pacing back and forth across the Office floor. "And I don't expect we'll be seeing any sort of apology from Sherlock anytime soon." He sighed.

Sherlock snorted. "Obvious. Have you figured out what you're going to bribe him with? Shouldn't be too hard, it's not the first time."

"Sherlock!" Mrs. Turner exclaimed, though whether she was shocked at the implication that Gregson could be bribed, or the fact that a student had done it before, neither Holmes could tell.

Sherlock waved her concern off. "Oh, don't be like that. If Mycroft hadn't been able to bribe at least half the teachers at this school, I'd have been expelled long ago." He snorted once and stopped his pacing, flopping gracelessly down into the chair beside his brother.

Mycroft smirked. "Sad, but true. Ah, I believe Headmaster Gregson is finished with his meeting; shall we?" He stood up and indicated that Sherlock should as well, before nodding at Mrs. Turner. As both Holmes boys stepped forwards, the Headmaster's Office door opened, and two adults stepped out. Gregson appeared behind them, and waited for them to leave before glancing at the waiting boys.

He frowned at Sherlock and glanced warily at Mycroft. "Well, come in then. Might as well get this over with."  

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Both boys stepped into the office, and Mycroft closed the door behind them. As they took a seat in front of Gregson's desk, Gregson sighed.

"I'll assume you've been somewhat informed of the situation, Mycroft?" 

Mycroft crossed his legs and nodded once. "While Sherlock hasn't said much past the fact that pudding was somehow involved, I have my own sources of information, which tell me this was some wort of...prank?" His voice rose slightly at the end of his sentence, making it sound like a question. 

Gregson winced. "Yes. It's been determined that Sherlock, and possibly another student, though Professor McCain has way of knowing who, filled a plastic bucket with pudding and...well, they rigged it up above the door, so that when the Professor stepped back into the classroom after having left to apprehend a miscreant, his opening of the door tipped the bucket and caused it to drop the pudding over him." Gregson shuffled some papers on his desk, before continuing. "Now, normally after something like this happens, I would have the student be given detention, possibly a weeks worth, or a few extra assignments." He looked up from the papers in his hands. "As it is, Sherlock already has a bit of a record of such occurrences, and the board has requested that I take a more drastic approach."

Sherlock snorted. Mycroft ignored him and replied, "The board, Mr. Gregson, or Professor McCain?" He raised his left eyebrow slowly and uncrossed his legs, sitting up straight in his chair. 

Gregson sighed. "Yes, well, the thing is, Professor McCain has reported several disturbances in his class that he says were caused by Sherlock, so I don't really blame him."

Mycroft sighed and leaned back. "Yes, I have heard." He glances at his brother out of the corner of his eye for a moment, before turning back towards the Headmaster. "How was it determined that Sherlock's the one responsible for this most recent incident?"

He see's his brother tense slightly beside him, and smirks. Gotcha.

Gregson looks confused. "Well, Professor McCain told me that-"

Mycroft cut him off. "Professor McCain has no proof that it was my brother's doing, is that correct?" He leaned forwards slightly in his seat, his eyes now staring unblinkingly at Gregson.

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Well then." Mycroft leaned back and crossed his legs again, looking like he was relaxing by the fire with a book, not discussing his brother's potential removal from the school. "No proof, no conviction. If Professor McCain cannot prove that my brother is responsible, then we must assume his accusation is based on personal dislike. Mustn't we, Headmaster?"

"Well, _yes_ , but-" 

"And that is _entirely_ unacceptable. Teachers should be objective in _all_ things, as well as impersonal when dealing with their students. The fact of the matter is, Mr. McCain's actions make it seem as if he is taking out his upset on a student, due to _personal_ feelings. I am sorry, but that is not appropriate behavior, is it, Headmaster?" Mycroft watched as Gregson spluttered for a moment, working his head around what he had just said.

Sherlock smirked beside him, and Mycroft felt a moment of triumph. He absolutely  _loved_ winning.

"I believe you are correct, Mycroft. Unfortunately, There is still the matter of Sherlock's disturbances within the class over the past few weeks, and if I do not give him _some_ sort of punishment, the Board will not be pleased." Gregson sighed in defeat. It seemed as if every time he thought the younger Holmes boy was about to be expelled, his brother found a way to work around it. Mycroft Holmes...kinda terrified him.

"That's fine." Mycroft replied, not bothering to ask 'Board or McCain' again, aware that they all knew the answer. "A three day suspension should be enough, don't you think? Actually, best make it a week. Wouldn't want the... _Board_...to be dissatisfied." 

Gregson nodded and made a note on the paper in front of him. "Alright, that should be fine. Sherlock, you are bloody lucky. Remember that." He stared sternly at the younger boy, who had been basically silent the entire time they had been talking. This was not unusual, as whenever Mycroft decided his input was necessary during one of these meetings, Sherlock let his brother do most of the talking. When Sherlock nodded, Gregson turned back to his paperwork and said, "Alright, get out of here. I don't want to see either of you in here for at _least_ a week. Understood?" 

"Yes, Headmaster Gregson." They chimed simultaneously, before Sherlock opened the door and ushered his brother out, closing it behind him. 

"Alright, gather your things Sherlock, and I'll drive you home." Mycroft said, leading his brother to the door. "Goodbye, Mrs. Turner." 

Mrs. Turner smiled at their backs and waved. "Bye, Mycroft. Try to get back in time for your next class, since you'll be missing History completely it seems." She called after them.

Mycroft walked with Sherlock to the boys locker and waited for him to shove his textbooks into his bag and grab his jacket from the hook. "Got everything now?" Mycroft asked, his eyes glancing down at the phone in his hand as his text alert went off. It was a text from his best friend Anthea, telling him off for being late to History. He sighed and ignored her. "Come on, let's get you home."

Sherlock slung his bag over his shoulder and followed his brother to the car. "That was easier than I expected." He remarked, opening the back door to his brother's car and tossing his bag in, before shutting it and sliding into the passenger's seat. "Gregson's gone soft in his old age." He smirked.

Mycroft's phone went off again, and this time he responded.

Anthea's text read: **_Where are you? -A_**

**_Currently attending to my brother. -MH_ **

Mycroft texted her back. She replied almost immediately.

**_Oh for fuck’s sakes. Okay, well try to make it_**  
**_back in time for History, okay? I can’t keep giving_**  
**O’Leary excuses. -A**  
  
Mycroft grimaced and texted her back one last time. She was going to be so pissed at him. 

  
_**I’ll do my best, but no promises; my brother is**_  
 _ **being more difficult than usual. -MH**_  
  
  
Mycroft started the car and pulled out of the lot, making his way towards their home. "It seems so, doesn't it. Honestly Sherlock, I can't keep missing classes to clean up after you like this." Sherlock was silently looking out the window, his body still.

"I know. Sorry." He mumbled under his breath, but the small sigh from beside him indicated that Mycroft had heard the apology. 

"Thank you." Mycroft said, just as softly.

Sherlock smiled slightly. "Will you drive me to work tonight? Normally Irene would, but since I won't be at practice tonight..." He trailed off and looked at his brother hopefully.

Mycroft thought for a moment before nodding. "Yes, I should be able to do that. You work at five tonight, yes?" He asked, and turned into their driveway. He stopped the car and got out.

Sherlock hopped out and grabbed his bags from the back before shutting the door. "Yup." He said, cocking his head to the side slightly. "You and Anthea have study group tonight, don't you?" He made a face while his brother nodded. "Ugh. Well, I'll get a ride back with Irene then. We're both on closing, so I won't be home until ten." He walked into the house and leaned out the door. "And Mycroft?"

Mycroft looked up from where he was standing, about to get back into his car. "Yes?"

Sherlock smirked. "You're telling Mummy why I'm not in school for the next week. Just thought you should know." He laughed and shut the door.

Mycroft sighed and got in the car. Just another day as Sherlock's older brother. Or as Anthea had taken to calling him, Sherlock's Personal Babysitter...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
